


Not Quite Samson Shorn

by waitfortheclick



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Family, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Haircuts, Loss, M/M, One Shot, Survivor Guilt, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 05:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19056256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfortheclick/pseuds/waitfortheclick
Summary: Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.- Arthur SchopenhauerCougar gets a haircut and is (mostly) normal about it.





	Not Quite Samson Shorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quinion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinion/gifts).



> Quire here is a thing I promised you weeks ago.

Strictly speaking, long hair is not a tactical advantage: it's not uniform, it's conspicuous, it’s dangerous in a fire, and it's easy to grab in a fight. 

Laws of nature dictate a shorter lifespan for the animal that stands out. There's a reason color variation is so limited among wild animals: not only is it advantageous to blend with the herd, camouflage saves lives. The military abides by similar laws. But Cougar has never had an issue with going unnoticed -- even before it was his job, inconspicuous observation was his modus operandi. Anyway, it’s difficult to identify someone you can't see in the first place. 

Fire is a fair concern, granted, but it's an issue that honestly hasn't come up. Maybe he’s playing with… never mind. As for getting grabbed, well. Cougar doesn't get caught.

This… this is a tragic and unforeseen circumstance. 

“Uncle Carlos I am so, so, so sorry.” Katie looks sorry, too; she looks miserable. Morose, even. Cougar feels for her, he does -- he doesn’t make a habit of holding grudges against children -- but he also sort of wants to milk the situation for his own amusement. He makes an exaggerated sad face in her direction.

“It's okay, chiquita. I'll only blame you if your mom makes me look bad.” For full effect he gives her a perfectly placid Mona Lisa smile. 

Katie’s eyes go comically wide and she gazes over his head at her mother. “Mom?” Her voice is full of panic.

“Don't worry, babe. He's kidding. I think.” Jackie picks up the spray bottle by Cougar’s elbow to wet his hair before running the comb through and making another cut. Water lands cool against his skin, and the negligible weight of hair falls to his shoulder before she brushes it away.

It's funny how easy it feels, after all. Cougar never imagined having his hair cut, losing this much length, would feel this pleasant, this peaceful. 

He thinks he should feel worse, regretful. Like losing something vital. He expected an uncomfortable vulnerability.

His mother was the last person he let cut his hair; he never thought he'd let anyone else. He didn’t expect it to be anything less than emotionally fraught, a psychological minefield. Cougar didn't anticipate this scenario: him sitting in Jake’s sister’s kitchen, willingly having her cut her daughter’s gum out of his hair. He’s glad to be sitting in Jackie’s kitchen, in this house filled with light and love; he's glad she's the one to do it, and not a stranger.

(“Cougar, really, I’m sure there’s something… I don’t know, mayonnaise, something -- you don’t have to cut it if you don’t want!” Jackie had pleaded, laughing. 

He shook his head, though, smiling, “No, cut it.” This was a decision he’d made with both eyes open.)

Jackie hums something, the way she does -- notes that never really add up to anything. He trusts her there, behind him, cutting away.

There’s a deep down part of him that is relieved. It’s the part that's been waiting for the other shoe to drop; for him to finally get what he deserves. The part that’s been bothering him ever since the biggest mistake he ever made: the helicopter, those children, los angelitos. Growing bigger and louder since he let Jake get shot; since he missed the signs of Roque's discontent and almost lost the rest of his team. Isn't that what Cougar was there for? Isn’t that what he was good at? Shouldn't he have been able to see? See for miles and miles, unnoticed, always scouting, watching for danger?

There are times when Jake reads Cougar’s mind and tells him there's no way he could have known. Pressed up against each other in the dark when Cougar doesn’t have to turn away to hide his face but still wants to. Which is unfair because doesn’t it always feel like Jake can read him like a book he wrote? He says: it's not like you can see the future, right? But, Jake, weren't there signs? 

Aren't there always signs?

“Knock knock!” Jake calls from the front door, presumably back from his errands. He comes into the kitchen and sets his grocery bags -- the tote bags Jackie shoved at him before he’d left -- on the counter next to Katie, and kisses the top of her head. His eyebrows jump when he looks over at Cougar. “Uuuh, hi. What's going on?” 

Jackie smiles at him over Cougar's head. “Hi, Jake. We just had a little accident with some gum… Cougar was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I was trying to blow a bubble.” Katie says sadly, staring mournfully into the middle distance. Cougar smothers a grin. 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, that's hilarious and adorable.” Jake laughs, a delighted burst of sound, and gives her a hug.”It's so not that big of a deal, kid. How’re you holding up there, Cougs?”

“We'll see.” He waggles his eyebrows.

Jackie gasps loudly. “Oh my god, why all the doubt? I did go to cosmetology school. You know, this atmosphere is really very negative.” 

“Really very?”

“Extremely. I'm wounded.”

Katie and Cougar cut in to insist “Pay attention!” in tandem. 

For a moment, everything is calm. Jackie resumes humming softly under her breath; the crisp sound of the shears is hypnotic. Cougar’s neck itches a little until she brushes away the clippings, her touch gentle. Jake lasts about a minute. 

“Hey J, remember that time you tried to bleach your hair and had to cut it all off?”

Jackie’s harsh, frustrated breath blows across the top of Cougar's head, ruffling his hair and tickling. “You are such an asshole, really. I cut it short and then bleached it, okay. I reject your disgusting pseudo historical propaganda.”

“Wait you did that on purpose?” Jake smiles at her.

She stops cutting to jab the scissors in his direction. “Suffer. I want you to suffer.”

“Can you guys please stop and focus on his hair!” Katie sounds close to a panic attack, which is the last thing Cougar wants. He wouldn’t have teased her if he’d known how upset she really was. 

He relents, raising his eyebrows in supplication: “I trust your mother. No worries, okay?” He puts everything he can behind the words.

“Really?” She looks at him sadly. “Are you mad at me? I'm mad at me.”

Cougar shakes his head - though he stills abruptly when he feels Jackie’s hands hold him steady -- and smiles. “It's just hair; it'll grow.” He should thank her. This was a change he needed, one he might not have made on his own. Fate is funny, and sometimes it is sticky and smells like bubblegum.

If this is the inconvenience, the sacrifice he must make -- to start to forgive himself, to move on -- he'll take it, and be glad for it. He’s letting the other shoe fall, and it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. On another level, it feels bigger than it might appear; it feels momentous. He knows that rituals are important, and all things are imbued with meaning. He knows what this signifies: the end of one era, the beginning of another. He can do anything he wants, now. 

Katie still looks doubtful, but she says, “Okay… I guess that's true.” 

“Actually, Kate, Cougar has a rare condition that makes it extremely difficult to regrow hair and --”

“Out! Out out out!” Jackie jabs at Jake again with the scissors.

“See ya!” He grins and winks at Cougar on his way out.

Jackie addresses Katie, attention back on Cougar’s hair: “What do we say, Kit-kat?”

Katie sighs and recites, “We love Uncle Jake but sometimes he is a liar and not to be trusted. Often. He is often a liar.” 

“Good girl.”

Katie bounces her heels softly off the cabinets, mood already brightened; she pulls a glass jar of cereal across the counter for something to snack on. Jackie pushes gently on Cougar’s head to move him this way, that way, back to center. She hums satisfactorily and makes a few last decisive snips.

“Okay,” Jackie sets down the scissors with a clank and blows on the back of his neck, banishing errant clippings. She gives him a handheld mirror and holds another behind his head. “What do you think?”

He inspects his reflection, checking that everything is even; Jackie's education was well invested, the cut looks great. It's been years since it was this short. It definitely feels different: lighter, breezier. Not as vulnerable as he anticipated, not like he’s lost so much after all.

Maybe it ultimately doesn't feel like giving something up because he's already lost so much. He was right, before: hair grows back. Compared to everything else that's been sacrificed, this is nothing. It’s more symbolic than concrete. Maybe he needed to do something symbolic to let himself begin to heal, to give himself permission.

Cougar gives Jackie a thumbs up and she unwraps the towel from his shoulders, shakes it out. He stands and turns around to kiss her cheek. “Perfect. Thank you.” He holds her arms gently, and he hopes it’s clear just how much he means it.

“Aaw,” she blushes and smiles. “Happy to. Anyway, not helping you out would have been a dick move,” she shrugs and rolls her eyes. “It was the fault of my spawn.”

“Hey!” Katie objects through a mouthful of Cheerios.

“Don't talk with your mouth full, dear.” She gives Cougar a quick hug, then starts cleaning up.

“Can I --” he gestures vaguely at the mess on the floor.

“No! Stop it. Go show Jake.” She shoves at him until he goes.

Cougar finds finds Jake in the guest room, at the desk they'd assembled together. Cougar leans against the door frame, and watches him at the computer; the tag is sticking out of his t-shirt. 

“It's so creepy when you do that, man.” Jake scratches distractedly at the back of his neck and swivels the chair around to face him, stops short. “Oh wow, hi.”

And this, the look on Jake's face, is the reason he doesn't really mind any of this at all. It might make him feel exposed, that look, but Jake has always been able to see him. Hat, no hat, hair back or in his face, out of sight and never out of mind, Cougar has never been able to hide from him. God willing, he'll never be able to.

Jake stands and takes a step toward him; he tentatively lifts a hand. “Can I…?” 

Cougar comes closer and ducks his head a little, so Jake’s hand touches his scalp. “Por supuesto.” Jake smiles and runs his fingers gently through Cougar’s hair, his eyes tracking their progress like he’s afraid he might miss something. This isn't so different, the way the contact still sends electric shivers dancing across Cougar’s skin. 

“How does it feel? Is it -- are you OK?” Jake, always tuned to his wavelength; always picking up signals he hadn’t known he’d been broadcasting.

“Bueno,” he answers both questions. Yeah, he's good.

Jake smiles and curves his hand around the back of Cougar’s head to pull him in for a kiss. A tender press of lips that makes Cougar’s heart sprout wings and attempt to take off from its perch inside his chest. He reaches to tuck the tag back inside Jake’s shirt and Jake smiles against his mouth and pulls him closer.

Cougar doesn't get caught, not ever, not unless he wants to be. Right now? He’s happily downright domesticated.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote the majority of this on my phone a few days after that Discord convo... then added stuff intermittently and stalled for a really long time before finally getting on my computer today and fixing it up with an actual real keyboard (I love you, real keyboard). Hi I didn't sleep last night so I apologize if anything is... odd. I just wanted to finish something!! Inspired by a conversation on Discord, and a little by Goddess of Yesterday by Caroline B. Cooney.


End file.
